


rich boys, broken toys

by yanopuedomas



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Recreational Drug Use, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanopuedomas/pseuds/yanopuedomas
Summary: Dwight doesn’t know what to think of Jake the first time he meets him because it had already been three months into the lease when he finally stumbled through the front door at midnight.The Parkfield roommates AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Jake Park
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

Dwight doesn’t know what to think of Jake the first time he meets him because it had already been three months into the lease when he finally stumbled through the front door at midnight.

Luckily, he had been awake. He’d made himself comfortable cocooned in a small fortress of pillows and blankets dragged from each room of the house and he had been busy typing up his research paper that was due in less than four hours.

Needless to say, he was not in the mood.

Dwight stared up at him blankly from his comfortable spot on the floor, not even caring that his papers were scattered about and there were far too many empty coffee mugs and energy drinks laying within arm’s reach.

Jake Park - he had spotted his name from the contract - stood there, clearly taken quite aback by the sight before him. Dwight couldn’t help but dryly wonder if Jake had expected he could just slip in at the dead of night when his new roommate would be sleeping, but now his plan had backfired and he didn’t have a backup.

_ He’s an idiot _ was Dwight’s first realization.

“Uh, hey.” Jake greeted him slowly. Dwight raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. His face was more of a cringe than a smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

“Dwight,” he stared. “Jake, right? You sure took your time getting here. Was traffic bad?”

“Yeah. About that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dwight reached for a small stack of papers before turning back to his laptop. “You kept up on rent so I didn’t bother looking for you.”

Which had been very surprising to him in the first place. Somehow, for nearly three months, Dwight had been paying half the rent while his unknown roommate paid the rest. It had actually been pretty ideal for him. He got to live on his own, blast music as loud as he wanted, cook pancakes at two in the morning - all sorts of things he knew he’d lose once his mysterious roommate finally showed his face.

“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Dwight waved a hand in its general direction, “But only for tonight. And if you see anything labeled gluten-free, don’t touch it.”

Jake looked like he got punched in the stomach. “You’re one of those, huh?”

“I have Celiac, dick.” Dwight snapped.

Bewildered, he asked, “The car?”

“Holy shit,” Dwight mumbled and rubbed his brow. Headache number three was already on its way.

Jake darted towards the kitchen and he slung off his backpack into an odd corner. Dwight eyed the ratty bag, clearly old and well-loved. It was suspiciously full. He stared at it and it stared at him until he broke.

“Is this really all you brought?”

As Jake opened the refrigerator, he answered, “A friend of mine is holding onto some stuff but yeah, that’s about it.”

Dwight craned his neck to catch a glance of Jake eagerly pawing through numerous plastic containers.

“Clothes?” he asked skeptically, “Toothbrush? A stupid lamp?”

“I’ve got clothes and a toothbrush,” Jake drawled as he snagged week-old Chipotle leftovers. “I’m not that stupid.”

“You better not think you’re going to leech off my stuff.” Dwight retorted, “I’m not above keeping photographic evidence.”

Jake shot him a lazy grin before carefully picking out bits of tomato from his meal. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Dwight rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. He tapped ‘save’ before losing the last two hours of work. “It’s just weird. Like you used to be homeless or something.”

Jake didn’t bother with the microwave and shoved a forkful of cold questionable chicken into his mouth. “Or something.”

That had taken place about a year ago.

Many things had changed since then. Dwight finished his term with flying colors and received his degree in business management. Working retail was now a thing of the past. He had a steady nine-to-five surrounded by loud coworkers, barking bosses, and shaky plumbing. Regardless, the upgrade had been a relief - and now he finally had something interesting to mention at family gatherings.

Dwight also started to learn how to play the piano, much to Jake’s dismay, but he had gotten fairly decent at it now and it eventually stopped grating on his nerves.

_ ‘If you get to burst home every night at one in the morning, then I get a piano,’ _ Dwight had told him. _ ‘Electric. Deal?’ _

_ ‘I guess,’ _ Jake had reluctantly agreed even with a grimace on his face.

One more thing had also happened over the course of those twelve months: Dwight had developed a helpless crush on Jake.

At first, he had assumed it was a natural response. Jake was practically the only source of Dwight’s social life that didn’t involve work or school, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. Sometimes he even cleaned the kitchen without being asked.

But then it just… didn’t go away.

In fact, over the most recent months, those ridiculous and completely uncalled-for feelings had increased exponentially - and it was getting harder and harder to make excuses to himself.

_'Dwight, how the are you still single?’ _

_'Easy for you to say, Playboy, but not all of us have the same tastes.’ _

Dwight was not secretive about his sexuality and he never had been. Maybe that was why his parents kicked him to the curb the day for his eighteenth birthday present.

_'You need to hit up Saint Peter’s. They’ve got half-price drinks on Wednesdays.’ _

_'Yeah, for sure.’ _

_ For sure _ was always Dwight’s _ no _.

In a fruitless attempt to sway this eerie attachment for Jake, Dwight started going out late with his friends. They stuck around bars for the most part, but every once in a while they would find themselves at a neon club with loud music pounding through every bone in his body.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Dwight’s drink tasted like battery acid and he wanted to go to bed. He squinted past the zipping flashy lights that pulsed to the DJ’s beat and managed to spot Nea standing a short distance away. They held two drinks in their hand - one was either a cherry or strawberry cosmopolitan and Dwight couldn’t quite place what the second was. Vodka with Red Bull he presumed, if it was for them.

Cutting his losses, he returned to the table where he also found Claudette and David. Shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets, Dwight slid into the vacant seat beside David and let his forehead collide with the table.

“Havin’ fun yet?” David snickered behind another bourbon. The unholy combination of English and Irish in his blood made drinking little more than a chore - Dwight was always plastered before he was properly buzzed.

“I’m not, thanks for asking.” Dwight said miserably, turning his head so his cheek pressed against the sticky wood. All three of them were peering at him curiously, waiting for him to explain. Dwight wasn’t in the mood to explain.

“Poor baby’s having another bad day,” Claudette concluded with a giggle and took a sip of her drink. The splash of cranberry juice gave it a soft reddish-pink hue which matched her purse and sparkly earrings. Dwight couldn’t help wondering if that was a coincidence.

“Did I _ what?_”

Only once Claudette spoke did Dwight realize that he had said that last bit aloud.

“The-” Dwight wiggled a few fingers next to his head. “Earrings. Your bag. Did you do that on purpose?”

Nea turned to Dwight with an incredulous look as Claudette burst out laughing. “Did you really come back from the dance floor to ask Claudette about fashion?”

“No,” Dwight sat up and promptly slid the rest of his drink over to David who eagerly snatched it. “I came back from the dance floor to tell you I wanna go home.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nea cheered. “It’s past your bedtime anyways. Get on home to your Star Trek, punk.”

“I’m going to go home and sleep, thank you very much.” Dwight stood briskly. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Don’t forget about the housewarming party on Saturday!” Claudette said brightly with a wave. Her voice was just as bubbly as the drink she cradled. “You’ll be there?”

Dwight forced a smile. “For sure.”

Driving home took more energy than it should have. He seemed to catch every red light, every stumbling jaywalker, every goddamn bump in the road. By the time he was sticking his key into the lock with much more force than necessary, he was bristling with anger and ready to collapse into bed.

Jake was home, which was a surprise. Dwight spotted him on the balcony through the blinds, his glowing phone in one hand and a glass pipe in his other.

Dwight didn’t bother with dinner. He walked into his room and immediately removed his shoes, pants, and collared shirt in exchange for a pair of oversized sweatpants. Finally, he tossed his glasses on his nightstand. He already felt a little better.

It wasn’t until he got himself comfortable in bed did he realize that he hadn’t turned off the light. He glared daggers into the ceiling. He really wanted the light off so he could sleep soundly, but was it really worth getting up for? He was finally so warm and cozy and he didn’t want to move an inch.

Dwight groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing his face against a pillow. Maybe he could just ignore it. He’d hate himself when he inevitably woke up with a migraine but right now, all he could think about was how exhausted he was.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a faint _ click _ from only a few feet away. His eyes shot open and he sat up, blearily blinking as his eyes adjusted to the new darkness.

Wait.

“You’re welcome,” came Jake’s smug voice from the doorway.

Dwight flopped back down again. “Fucker.”

Dwight didn’t know what he expected next but something quite peculiar happened. He felt a dip in his bed, his mattress suddenly trying to accommodate for much more than just him.

Confused, Dwight opened his eyes again and found that Jake had removed his shoes and quite literally crawled into his bed. He situated himself a few feet away, sighing in content as he tucked his arms behind his head.

Dwight stared at him, completely stricken. All he could manage was, “What are you doing?”

“Hanging out.” Jake said casually, not even bothering to open his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Um,” his mouth went dry. “I’m about to sleep.”

“Nice.” Jake nodded sagely. “Sleep’s good.”

“Sleep is good.” Dwight agreed slowly. “Can I help you?”

“You looked kinda sad coming in,” he shrugged, “Thought you could use some company.”

Dwight would rather die before he admitting it, but he wasn’t wrong.

Jake turned to face him. “Rough night?”

Even without his glasses on, Dwight could spot the languid lazy smirk on his face.

Dwight ignored the question. “You’re high.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Well, then you can _ take _yourself back to your room.”

Jake pretended he didn’t hear him. He shifted onto his side, one hand happily petting Dwight’s comforter. It felt too weird to meet Jake’s eyes when they were this close - not to mention when Jake was _ in his bed with him _ \- so Dwight shut his eyes and yanked his blanket up to his shoulders.

“I’ve seen you all mopey and depressed before, but this feels different,” Jake added rather plainly. “I felt like you could use a hug.”

Pretending Jake wasn’t here was getting harder by the second. He hated how pathetic he was - even the mere thought of being embraced was enough to make him swallow hard. Maybe it was just the prospect of being hugged by Jake.

“Not really,” was all Dwight muttered.

Jake went quiet for a moment. “Can my friend come over tomorrow?”

Dwight startled.

“Yeah, of course,” he frowned. “You don’t need to ask me for permission.”

Jake yawned. “Mm. I know, but she’ll probably stick around ‘til late. Just wanted to make sure it was cool.”

Dwight felt sick to his stomach.

Jake was bringing a girl over.

A girl.

To their house.

Somewhere deep down, far deep down, Dwight knew that one of these days Jake would inevitably bring someone home. It only made sense. He was out so much - drinking, smoking, spray painting churches - doing whatever Jake Park does when he’s gone for hours or days on end. Of course he was bound to find someone he really liked.

“Whatever,” Dwight let out more bitterly than he intended. “Do what you want, I’ll be gone anyways.”

He had no idea where he’d be but he knew damn well that he wouldn’t be anywhere near this place. He felt nauseous.

“Whoa,” Jake frowned, sitting up slightly so he could better face Dwight. “What’s all that about? I don’t have to bring her over if you don’t want me to.”

Perfect. The last thing Dwight needed was his roommate thinking he was some kind of possessive freak.

“It’s fine.” Dwight wanted to turn away from Jake but it would be too obvious. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. His night had just gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll like her,” Jake assured him but Dwight wasn’t ready to hear a word more about her. “She’s crazy smart.”

“Cool.” Dwight grit out.

“Yeah,” Jake stretched. “I told her she could come around but only if she didn’t bring that boyfriend of hers because - just between you and me? - he freaks me out.”

Dwight jumped.

“Wait, what?” he blurted out, sitting upright. He glared down at Jake, reeling with fury. “Why the fuck is she coming over if she’s got a boyfriend? What is wrong with you?”

Jake watched him with a great deal of confusion on his face. Dwight could tell the gears were turning but the dope in his bloodstream was making it a little difficult.

“Your friend,” Dwight repeated. “Why is she coming over?”

Then Jake brightened, suddenly able to decipher the question. A wide grin split across his face and he replied cheerily, “She’s coming over to play Monopoly.”

Dwight couldn’t breathe. He blinked rapidly, his exhausted-addled brain trying to comprehend what it could and fill in the blanks. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he was helplessly unable to hide his dawning realization whatsoever.

… and Jake could tell.

He began to laugh. It wasn’t one of his small chuckles he hides behind his hand, muted and subtle, but an actual, genuine, loud laugh. He smacked his palm to his brow, his cheeks growing more flushed by the second. Dumbstruck, Dwight could only sit there, staring at him as he tried and failed miserably to get himself together.

“Oh my god,” Jake gasped out, his voice a little ragged. “Holy shit. You thought she- wait, did you think she was my girlfriend or something?”

His head fell back as he shook his head, shoulders still shaking even as he tried to stifle his ever-persistent maddened giggling.

Dwight’s face immediately flushed red. His chest swelled with embarrassment and anger and _ relief_. All at once his anxiety and terror melted away, replaced by the most ridiculous form of humiliation he had ever experienced in his life but _ fuck _ if it wasn’t the best news he could have asked for.

Trying to maintain some dignity, Dwight grumbled, “What the hell else was I supposed to do, huh? You made it sound so obvious.”

“I’m telling her you said that. God. I’m sorry. You’re actually not the first one to think that, but it’s just-” he cackled again, “It’s always so funny to me.”

“You’re a dick,” Dwight informed Jake with a huff. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Jake snickered. Dwight tried hating how proud of himself Jake sounded but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not.”

Dwight shook his head. Today had been far too strenuous for his liking. On top of all this disaster, he had work in under seven hours and he intended to use each one of them for the most direly-needed sleep of his life.

“Can you do me a favor?” Dwight began tiredly, “If you ever do have a girl over, just do it when I’m not home. I don’t even want to know about it. Alright?”

The room was quiet for a heartbeat too long and Dwight immediately hated himself for the question. It was such an unfair thing to ask of him.

Surrendering, Dwight’s voice lowered to a mumble, “You don’t _ have _ to, obviously, but-”

“That won’t happen,” Jake said, “I don’t even like girls.”

Dwight stared at him. Jake wasn’t laughing any longer. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he scrubbed a hand through his messy hair.

“Sorry,” Jake said quietly, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. And definitely not while I’m laying in your bed.”

He heaved a sigh and stood up, stretching his arms. “I need to learn when to shut up. I’m sorry, Dwight.”

Dwight’s breath caught in his throat. He’d never heard Jake say his name before.

“Hey,” Dwight spoke up at last, his voice slicing through the uncertainty and fear that lingered in the air. Jake glanced back to him.

“It’s okay,” he said firmly, keeping his gaze level with Jake’s. “Really. Everything’s fine.”

“I fucking-” he waved a hand for emphasis, “Storm into your room at midnight and announce I’m gay, how is that not my fault?”

“It’s not your fault because you didn’t do anything wrong.” Dwight sat up straighter, pushing the tangled blanket from his legs. He took a breath in and hoped he didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.

“I mean it’s not like,” his breath caught in his throat. His stomach was doing flips and his heart felt like it might actually beat right out of his chest.

Dwight lifted his arms and dropped them back down again. He tried again to speak, “You’ve seen me, it’s not exactly like I’ve got girls over on the weekends either, you know.”

Jake seemed to tense. Dwight stopped. Fuck. He couldn’t do this.

“What I’m trying to say is, uh.” Dwight cleared his throat, “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

Jake stuck his hands in his pockets with a meek smile. “Well, that’s a relief,” he admitted sheepishly, “I honestly thought you were about to kick me out of here.”

Dwight couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Jake was so stupid.

Fuck_,_ did he love him.

“Hey, don’t give me that.” Jake smirked. “Listen, it’s always a hit or a miss. You never know what’s about to hit you when you tell someone that.”

“Yeah,” Dwight said, “I get you.”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, watching Dwight for a moment. There was something sober and unreadable behind his eyes.

Finally Jake spoke again. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Let’s go get shakes.”

“Shakes sound perfect.” Dwight snatched his glasses and was on his feet in record timing.

They both lost track of how long they were out, sitting on the top of park benches as they sipped strawberry shakes and watched the sun come up. Dwight only managed three hours of sleep that night but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
  


“I thought housewarming parties were supposed to be held at, you know. The actual house.”

The number of halfhearted scowls that met Dwight’s dry remark only reminded him how many drunk people there were lounging about his living room.

“Stop cleaning for two seconds and get over here,” Nea beckoned for him from their spot half-dangling off the couch. “Get a drink. Chill out. You’re killing me.”

Defeated, Dwight threw away a pair of crumpled beer cans in the bin before grabbing a glass and obediently trudging to the closest sofa. Claudette clumsily made grabby hands and was sated only when he collapsed gracelessly onto it.

“Is that wine?” Dwight asked, staring at a clear bottle in Jake’s hand.

He looked pained. “It’s just a Kirkland.”

“If it’s cold and white, I’ll take it.”

“Like you.” Jake cackled as he filled Dwight’s cup.

Dwight squinted.

“I can see why you like him so much,” Feng spoke up, blue nails running along her glass of raspberry liqueur. “His taste in alcohol is just as bad as yours.”

Jake made a great show of dramatically pointing to her. “Hush. He is my housemate and I will not tolerate this slander.”

Dwight absently wondered how many drinks Jake managed to slam while he’d been busy wiping countertops.

“Dwight!” Jake declared, gesturing just as vividly to the stranger beside Feng. “This is Herman. Herman is the boyfriend. Herman, play nice.”

Herman looked borderline uncomfortable but he was polite enough to fake a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having us.”

Then he outstretched his hand.

Dwight just looked at it. “... Come on, man.”

Feng quickly smacked his hand away. “_Babe _, don’t shake his hand. Relax.”

Herman dropped it with a sheepish, “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. I just promised myself I’d never turn into an adult.” Dwight took a generous swig of his drink. It tasted like nail polish.

“He doesn’t get out a lot,” Feng said dryly, "this is the first time all month I’ve pried him out of the house.”

“I get out,” the boyfriend protested.

Feng shot him a look. “Work doesn’t count.”

He deflated. “I don’t get out.”

Dwight spied an opportunity and snatched it. “You work a lot, huh? What do you do?”

Herman recovered slightly and looked relieved at the change of subject. “Oh, I’m a surgeon.”

Dwight blinked rapidly. “Really? That’s pretty intense.”

“‘Pretty intense’ is damn right,” Feng snapped her fingers, "he’s a _ neuro_surgeon. Which pretty much means I never see him. But he can slice your brain open.”

Dwight felt like much more wine was needed for this conversation. It took every ounce of his willpower not to let his jaw hit the carpet.

“Jesus,” he croaked. He abruptly regretted how proud he’d been when he received his shitty promotion. What was fifty grand a year when this guy was saving lives?

Herman laughed awkwardly, rubbing his arm. “There are no boring days, that’s for sure.”

“What’s the inside of a brain look like?” Nea demanded.

“Do not answer that question,” Claudette interrupted them around a mouthful of cheese pizza, "or you will find out just how weak my stomach is.”

“Is it squishy? Like slime? Or is it more robust, like spaghetti?”

“Nea, your girlfriend’s about to hurl.”

“She’s used to it.”

Dwight tipped his drained glass towards Jake who dutifully refilled it. He turned back to Herman. “Am I allowed to ask how much you make or is that some kind of no-go?”

Herman chuckled in gentle declination but Feng flashed her fingers in a series of numbers. Dwight suddenly felt more lightheaded than a single drink could account for.

Dwight could hardly believe this was the same person Jake spoke of. Herman was the furthest thing from terrifying Dwight could think of. He had expected mohawks and neck tattoos, not an actual genius with social anxiety.

Realizing how little he really knew Jake felt odd.

“Shut up, listen, I’m right about this! She just proved me right!”

Dwight’s attention immediately yanked back to the present. There was now a great deal of commotion happening and, unsurprisingly, it was aimed at Jake.

“Listen, listen-” Jake could hardly contain his snickering and struggled to speak over the rising groans of dismay from the others. “Shut up! There are three categories of attraction, got it?”

“Not this again,” Feng moaned, “will you ever shut up about this?”

“No, because I’m right!” Jake exclaimed.

Dwight and Claudette shared a terrified look.

“If I had a dime for every time you went off about this-”

“There are three different means of attraction,” Jake cut her off excitedly, “ready?”

“_No_-”

“There’s hot,” Jake declared, already counting on his fingers, “sexy, and cute. Understand?”

“What does that even _ mean?_” Claudette asked, mortified.

“Jake has a system of categorizing attractive people,” Feng supplied, “he thinks he’s the next Freud when he goes off like this.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Nea said excitedly, leaning forward as though preparing to watch a fistfight, “Give me an example. Is Dwight hot?”

Dwight’s head whipped to them. “Don’t you dare give him ammo.”

“Of course Dwight isn’t hot,” Jake said cheerily.

Dwight’s eye twitched. “Thanks.”

Jake pointed at him. “But you’re cute as hell.”

Dwight’s head was reeling. He couldn’t keep up. “Ah.”

“Now Herman-” Jake’s face straightened. “Herman’s hot. Herman’s sexy.”

“I know.”

“Shut up Feng, the gays are talking.”

Dwight watched in muted horror as everyone took turns giving Jake different names to classify and justify. Nea threw out names of actors and reality stars. Claudette excitedly scrolled through her phone to show him pictures of influencers and small-name singers. Dwight’s smile felt more plastic by the minute.

He stood up and took his wine with him. The howls and shrieks followed him, dulled with each turn he took. Finding a quieter space, he lowered himself to the floor and tipped his head against the wall.

People were fine. Noise was alright. He was used to crowded spaces and booming music. But sometimes, just sometimes, it got to be a bit too much.

His house was full of friends, new and old, but in some selfish way he felt lonely. He wasn’t used to competing for Jake’s attention. Dwight’s favorite thing about being home was him but it didn’t feel like home right now.

He felt like he had walked onto the set for the wrong movie. He was used to feeling out of place, like he didn’t quite fit in, but this wasn’t that familiar sense of discomfort. It stung, right in the middle of his chest, and the longer he stared into his empty wine glass the more he wished he had just brought the bottle with him.

“You’re doing it again.”

Dwight jolted, his head snapping upright. “_Jesus_, you scared the shit out of me.”

Jake didn’t bother apologizing. “What are you doing on the floor?” he asked with a frown. “That’s kind of gross.”

“I don’t know, I just,” Dwight gestured vaguely, “Needed a minute.”

“Are you okay?”

Dwight stared up at him. What a strangely human question from a strangely inhuman boy.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said after a moment, “it’s just-”

“Loud?"

Dwight nodded.

“Yeah. I get that.” Jake folded his arms and looked over his shoulder. “I can get them out of here if you want.”

“No, don’t,” he sighed, "it’s not their fault.”

“Here, I got this.”

“No wait, _ Jake_-”

Jake spun around and disappeared and not two seconds later, Dwight heard him call out, “Hey, who wants to light something on fire?” which was met immediately with Nea shrieking in thrill.

Dwight swore and stumbled to his feet. He scrambled into the living room just as Jake and Nea quickly vanished into the kitchen. Feng watched from her comfortable spot on the sofa, unimpressed.

“What are they doing?” Dwight demanded.

“No idea,” Feng swatted Herman’s thigh, “Go find out. Keep an eye on them for me.”

Herman blinked once. “I- are you sure?”

“Are you a doctor or aren’t you? Make sure those two don’t do anything stupid.”

Herman hesitated but only briefly before standing up quickly, suddenly quite worried. He quietly excused himself as he slipped past Dwight who could only stare at him in aghast.

“God_damn_, he’s tall,” Dwight wheezed, unable to resist watching the massive man clumsily hurry to the kitchen. “where do you _ find _ guys like that?”

Feng took a dainty sip of her drink, “Online.”

“I am so sorry but I cannot imagine that man knowing how to use a computer,” Claudette giggled, her head lolling back against the couch.

“Trust me, he doesn’t.”

“Claude, you good?” Dwight questioned skeptically as she laughed breathlessly behind her hands.

She looked up sleepily. “Hm? Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, honey.”

Dwight wasn’t convinced but he dropped it. He had slightly more pressing matters to attend to, like listening out for the shrill pierce of the nearest smoke alarm. He helped himself to another deserved drink.

“You guys have such a nice house,” Claudette hummed contentedly, “did Jake say something about you guys moving sometime?”

“Moving?” Dwight repeated. This was news to him. “I don’t… I don’t know. I mean, I’m not.”

“Oh. Maybe that was someone else.”

Dwight hated how unsettling that sounded. He ignored his nerves by asking Feng, “Did you know he wasn’t here for like three months when we first started renting the place?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “he’s just sort of like that.”

“Nearly had me convinced I was living with a ghost or something. Did he just, I don’t know, forget or something?”

Feng looked annoyed. “How am I supposed to know? He just up and left, I don’t know where he was or what the hell he was thinking.”

Dwight hesitated. “I assumed he was with you.”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding me? That would have driven him crazy.”

“Oh,” he was baffled, “I thought you two were close.”

“We are,” Feng arched a brow. “but that doesn’t matter. That idiot would probably rather live on the streets than somewhere like here. That’s why I was so surprised to hear he finally moved in. But honestly? I’m more surprised that he’s stayed so long.”

Something in Dwight seized. “Why?”

“Jake was not made for… domesticity.” Feng said finally. “You live with him, I’m sure you’ve noticed. I can’t tell you how many times he’s just disappeared.”

Not left, not traveled. Disappeared. He hesitated. “Why?”

“Who knows? He’s his own disaster. Don’t try too hard to figure him out, you’ll only wear yourself out.”

Dwight silently refilled his wine glass but he craved something harder. Somehow everything Feng said both made perfect sense but confused him beyond comprehension. It seemed that not even Jake’s closest friend could understand him. He couldn’t help wondering how lonely that must feel.

“I feel like I’m listening to something I shouldn’t be.” Claudette whispered.

Feng only patted her leg kindly.

Herman popped his head around the corner. “They’ve poured whiskey on the countertop and lit it on fire.”

“Jesus,” Feng rolled her eyes.

Dwight rubbed his temples. “The counters are granite so it should be okay. I think.”

“I’ll check.” Herman disappeared again.

“Has Jake always been like this?” Dwight asked Feng tiredly.

“No,” she admitted, “he used to be worse.”

Dwight sighed and tipped his head back. The ceiling seemed to ebb and sway so he closed his eyes. There was a lingering rattling anxiety in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite shake. A guilt-riddled piece of him felt as though he had just spilled the contents of Jake’s diary onto his lap.

It didn’t take long for the get-together to disperse. After everyone finished their last drinks, Jake walked Feng and Herman to the front door. Dwight felt obligated to follow. He stood there with his hands in his pockets as they said their goodbyes.

“Text me once in a while. You have a phone, you know how to use it.” Feng punched Jake’s arm.

Jake grinned sheepishly. “Okay.”

She pulled him in for a hug. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

“Hey, no, no- get _ off _.”

Dwight looked over to find Nea straddled on Claudette’s lap, palms flushed to her cheeks. He was about to be annoyed at the obnoxious affection but then realized they were only there because Claudette had her arms tight around their waist and was simply refusing to let go.

“Is she alright?” He wondered if he should have cut her off hours ago. 

“She’s great, she just needs something to eat.” Nea wheezed, busy unwinding themself from Claudette’s wiry grasp. “Baby. Dude. C’mon, let go.”

“Are we getting more pizza?” Claudette asked excitedly.

“I don’t know what we’re getting but we’re getting something,” Nea griped as they hauled her to her feet, “‘cause apparently I need to babysit you when you drink. Some water wouldn’t hurt, either.”

She made a face and nearly stumbled. “Gross.”

“You’ve made a monster out of her,” Dwight noted.

They flipped him off. “This was your fault, punk.”

At the door, Claudette kissed Dwight’s cheek with a _ bye, sweetie _ before settling back into Nea’s arm. For Jake, she offered him her sweetest smile. The guests shuffled out of the house and Dwight could instantly feel the calm once again.

“How come I didn’t get a kiss?” Jake complained as he shut the door behind them.

“You?” Dwight asked incredulously, deciding not to walk yet because the floor hadn’t stopped spinning. “Mister don’t-touch-me-or-I’ll-scream? You’re like a cat. I wouldn’t kiss a cat either.”

Jake watched him for a moment. He made an odd noise in the back of his throat. “Like I said. Cute.” and he poked Dwight in the forehead before walking away. Dwight’s cheeks burned.

He stopped dead in his tracks just short of the kitchen with a strange twisted look on his face. He put his hands on his hips and looked down, tapping his foot as if trying hard to think about something.

“Are you good?” Dwight asked slowly. He knew that stance.

Jake paused and held up a finger. Then he looked him dead in the eye. “No.”

He sprinted to the bathroom.

Dwight rolled his eyes. He grabbed a glass of water from the sink, drank half so he wasn’t next, then padded across the house to the bathroom. He glanced at the living room. Ring stains and crushed popcorn littered every surface and overturned takeout pizza boxes spilled crumbs into the carpet, but it didn’t concern him the way it should have.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Dwight giddily mocked as he stood at a safe distance, “That’s kind of gross.”

“_You’re _ gross,” Jake groaned as he sat up. Dwight cringed as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Fuck. _ Fuck._”

He handed him a large cup of water. “You’ll be alright. Just get this down.”

“It’s just embarrassing. Throwing up after party like some college kid.” Jake flushed the toilet and knocked his head back against the wall. He quickly began chugging the water.

Dwight shrugged and sat beside him. “You probably just lost track. It happens.”

“I’m not even that drunk,” Jake marveled almost to himself, “This shit’s probably just nerves. I haven’t been around that many people in a long time.”

Dwight watched him snicker. He wondered if he knew it wasn’t a joke.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

He knocked his head against the wall. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“This isn’t talking, this is-” he stopped. He didn’t know what this was.

Jake pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back. “So you finally think I’m messed up too, huh?”

“I never said that.” Dwight said defensively.

“It’s not what you didn’t mean.”

Dwight sighed. “Stop talking in circles. What are you trying to ask me?”

“I suppose,” he began slowly, “I’m just wondering if you’re tired of me yet.”

Dwight hated the way he said it - there was a sort of practiced ease in the way the words fell from his lips. He was used to watching people give up on him. This, Dwight realized, was what Feng had talked about.

“Well, I’m not.” Dwight told him as he ignored the tightness in his chest, “And don’t hold your breath, either. I don’t think you can see it but there actually are people that care about you.”

Jake ducked his head between his legs and folded his hands over the back of his neck.

“Remember that time,” Dwight started, “you called me really late at night to get home?”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“It was three in the morning. Do you know why I answered the phone?”

“Because you’re a clinical insomniac?” he muttered. “Listen, I don’t really want to talk about that right now. I fucked up, I get it.”

“I don’t care about that,” he insisted, “don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what time it was or where you were. I wasn’t angry, I was worried.”

Jake looked at him warily. “Why?”

“Because you’re important to me, idiot.” Dwight leaned his head against the wall and watched him, “and you know what? I’d do it every night if you needed me to.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “You’d wake up that early every damn day just to give me a ride?”

“I would,” Dwight challenged, “because I want you home safe.”

He braced for a sharp response but found none. Jake wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

“You still never told me what happened,” he ventured.

“Yeah, and I won’t. I made a mistake.”

“I guess I’m just confused as to why you didn’t call someone else. Feng or…” he trailed off, “Or someone.”

“Couldn’t.” Jake’s voice was tired, “Not when I’m like that. You were all I had.”

Then Dwight realized Jake was staring at his hand. Without thinking he grabbed Jake’s. His bony fingers dug into his palm so hard it ached.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t leave,” Dwight admitted even as the words made his throat hurt, “I just want you to know you’d be leaving behind a lot of people who could help you.”

“I know.” It was both practiced and apologetic. He wasn’t the first to have this conversation with him.

“Let’s get to bed,” he decided after a moment. “I want to get up those stairs while I still can and you really need to get some rest.”

Jake started slowly, “Could we stay like this for a bit?”

Dwight was nodding before he even realized it. He didn’t know how to let go of his hand so he didn’t. When Jake tipped his head against his shoulder, Dwight nearly forgot how to breathe.

He closed his eyes and mesmerized the way Jake’s fingers fit between his. “As long as you need.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three months later was Halloween.

Between working and helping Claudette finish moving, Dwight was surprised he had time for any kind of celebration. It had been mostly Jake’s idea with Dwight’s manual labor, but they’d managed to throw up some decorations and patch together a few costumes.

Well, at least one.

“And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Dwight asked blankly, feeling quite ridiculous in his homemade vampire garb when Jake shrugged on a hideous jacket and an impossibly uglier cap, “Some guy I saw on the street once.”

Due to this, Dwight appointed himself in charge of handing out candy and waited dutifully by the door with an overflowing bowl. That is, until Jake turned on an ancient horror film and Dwight was gradually lured by the prospect of white cheddar popcorn and awful screenwriting.

“For someone who likes the original Star Wars, you’re not cutting this any slack.” Jake protested when Dwight nearly keeled over laughing at a particularly forced jumpscare.

“Don’t you compare this trash to Star Wars. Do I need to remind you why those movies were revolutionary for its time?”

Jake threw a pillow at his face. “No, you don’t.”

“Nice going, you got corn syrup all over this thing,” he wiped fake blood from his mouth.

“Jokes on you, I already spilled salsa on it.”

Dwight hesitated. “Are you eating popcorn with salsa?”

He looked up. “Yeah. Why?”

The doorbell chimed and Dwight hurried to his feet. “Save my spot.”

It was the twin girls from across the street. He didn’t know them personally but their overzealous soccer mom had once tried calling the police on Jake for parking in front of her house. One of the girls was dressed as an elven princess and the other was clad head to toe as an impressive zombie ninja hybrid.

“Trick or treat!” they said in perfect unison.

“You two look great!” Dwight gushed as he filled their pillowcases. “I hope you guys like Twix, there’s a bunch in here. Here, have some more!”

“Are you a real vampire?” demanded the princess. “You’re never outside in the day.”

“No, I’m not,” Dwight felt the need to apologize. “Are you a real princess?”

She beamed, “Yes.”

“If you’re not a vampire, I can kill you with this!” screeched the other girl as she yanked out a plastic sword.

“You could,” Dwight agreed readily, “But then who would teach you to become the greatest undead ninja in the world?”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re a _ ninja? _”

“Girls, enough!” Their mother called out shrilly from the sidewalk, keeping a safe distance like the Antichrist outside a church, “Mo, I’ve told you a hundred times to put that stupid thing away.”

Dwight waved to the girls as they scampered to the next house. Their mother remained.

“Can I help you?” he asked tiredly.

“You better tell that friend of yours to quit driving like a maniac," she barked, not budging, "the whole neighborhood can hear him revving that stupid car. He almost ran over my girl’s bicycle last week!”

“It’s a manual and he’s still learning,” Dwight apologized, “Tell your daughters to keep their bikes off the street and perhaps they won’t get run over. Happy Halloween.”

Dwight closed the door and returned to the living room. He found Jake comfortably laying on the couch, long lanky legs strewn across where he’d been sitting thirty seconds prior.

“I saved your spot.”

“Thanks,” Dwight said, “Can I have it back?”

He licked popcorn butter off his fingers. “No.”

Dwight smiled. “Alright then.”

Carefully bundling up his makeshift cape, Dwight laid down beside him. He pressed his back flush to Jake’s chest but the couch was quite small and definitely not suited for two grown people. He crossed his arms to save room but it was still a tight fit.

“Er- here,” Jake awkwardly sat up and Dwight followed suit, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. He watched him reposition a little. “Sorry, should I-?”

“Here,” he gave a brief nod, “like this?”

Dwight’s blush reached the tip of his ears and he nodded quickly. He dropped his head onto Jake’s chest and felt his hand settle carefully on his back. It was a very uncertain gesture, like he didn’t really know where else to put it.

Over the past months, something about them had changed.

Jake still vanished for days on end. He would be home one night but then gone by the time Dwight woke up for work. Sometimes he was here but restless and anxious, unable to sit still or keep occupied. Days like those were the hardest to watch.

But once in a while, Jake would come into his room. He’d sit on his bed and ask him about his day and how work went and if he wanted to watch an episode of The Good Place together. If Dwight was sitting beside him, Jake would absently trace his fingers while he spoke. 

The concept of _ touch _ was a painfully unfamiliar concept to Jake. In the beginning, he was hopeless; every unexpected hug or hand on his back would make him jump. Even now, initiating contact wasn’t a strong suit. When Jake wanted attention but couldn’t ask for it, he’d align this sort of situation; putting Dwight in the position to choose between laying beside him or finding somewhere else to sit. It was a compromise they’d tested and trialed without ever speaking a word of it.

During this time, work had crawled its way to the peak of Dwight’s anxiety. What had begun as odd passing comments and vague emails turned into what felt like a conspiracy against him. Managers were relieving him of projects that he had begun, forcing him to watch as his precious work was thrust into the hands of agonizingly less competent coworkers.

It was no chore completing his fair share before lunch but he started carefully monitoring his work. Even the slightest miscalculation or wrong hundredth of a fraction could upset the ridiculously ancient system. Usually when the clock struck five he was reaching for his keys but lately he’d been staying closer to dinnertime getting ahead on the reports needed for the next quarter. It was odd to begin them this early but he wasn’t about to be caught unprepared.

At the end of a particularly brutal Tuesday, Dwight came home just past eight and all but hurled his laptop bag to the ground. Jake looked up from a tabletop full of splinters.

“What,” Dwight asked, “are you doing?”

Jake looked down as if he’d only just now realized what was in his hands. “Wood carving.”

Dwight stared at the strange piece clutched between bandaged fingers. Now that he mentioned it, it vaguely resembled a bird.

“It’s not done,” he said defensively as though he could read his mind.

“I’m just wondering how you learned to do that.”

Jake reached for another piece of candy from the leftover Halloween bowl. There was already a heap of wrappers accumulating. “A family friend showed me how when I was a kid. Guess I just never stopped. Hey, can you drive me to get ice cream?”

“Isn’t that a bowl of candy in front of you?”

“I want something cold,” Jake clarified and put a handful of candy in the pocket in his grossly oversized jacket. “I’ll buy you some too.”

“But it’s winter,” Dwight complained even as they grabbed their coats. “Are you going to do that thing again where I take you to get food then you realize you have no money so I have to spot you?”

“Not this time, look.” Jake opened his wallet. Dwight spotted several twenties. “That’s a lot of money for ice cream. Stocking up for next year?”

Jake tugged on gloves as he crawled into Dwight’s Tacoma. “How was work? I haven’t seen you try to destroy your computer like that in a while.”

“It was fine,” he lied and checked his mirrors, “It was just driving home that pissed me off. They’re still doing construction on Southern.”

Dwight put his hand on the center console but Jake wasn’t looking up from his phone. He silently put it back.

“So what kind of ice cream sounds good?” he tried.

“The gas station has this caramel chocolate thing that’s kinda good,” he drawled, half paying attention.

“You really want to go there for ice cream? Why don’t we go get some real gelado or something?”

“Gelado isn’t ice cream, it’s a nightmare.”

“It’s better for you,” Dwight countered.

“Not emotionally.”

Dwight turned at the corner gas station and parked near the doors. The place was empty save for a lone car at one of the pumps and a pair of pedestrians lingering beside the wall. Dwight unbuckled his seatbelt but Jake was already scrambling out.

Dwight headed for the warm indoors but Jake didn’t follow. He kept checking his phone, frowning, then looking over each shoulder. He repeated this segment twice more before Dwight finally asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Oh,” he said, “maybe I need glasses too. Hey, dumbass!”

The last bit was saved for someone behind Dwight. He spun around and found that one of the people near the building was now walking over to them.

Immediately Dwight tensed. It wasn’t the size or stature of the man walking closer - he was actually a somewhat small person - but the amount of _ metal _he carried.

It was everywhere - through his ears, eyebrows, a couple studs hidden in the sharp shadows of his gaunt cheeks. There was a bulky silver chain attached to his belt loop and safety pins latched every shred of his tattered charcoal jeans. Above all, the spikes on his heavy jacket read the loudest _ don’t fuck with me. _ The other person followed although he looked reluctant. He was a tall scrawny thing, cradling a Starbucks cup and shivering in a university hoodie.

The shorter one stepped into the light and stopped just before them. Suddenly his pierced lips split into a wide boyish grin. Despite the tattoos matting every inch of his throat, the gap between his front teeth and his round blue eyes made him look ten years younger.

“Didn’t expect you on time,” he said cheerily, “The fuck’s up, Park? New ride?”

“I wish,” Jake bumped his inked fists. “Met Dwight?”

“Naw,” the stranger eyed Dwight up and down with a cheeky wink, “What’s up? I’m Frank.”

“Hi,” he said stupidly because it was all he could think to say. “Jake, what-?”

Jake pulled out his wallet and Frank reached for his pocket. Dwight rolled his eyes to the stars. “Are you serious? Right now?”

Jake snatched his packet of twenties. “There’s last week’s in here, too. Stupid thing only lets me take out two hundred a day.”

“That’s why I tell you to keep it all in cash,” Frank complained as he counted the bills in a practiced blur, “Jesus Christ, you dumb rich kids are all the same. Never prepared, always complaining.”

“I told you I didn’t want this one again, it just knocks me out,” Jake sighed when Frank dangled a plastic bag in front of his face. He examined it closer. “Wait, what is this? This isn’t from your place, is it?”

“That, my friend, is homegrown.” Frank poked his chest and Jake glared. “Take it, smoke it, love it. There’s more where that came from and it’s a _ lot _cheaper for daddy to get so please like it, okay?”

“Don’t ever say that again.” Jake begrudgingly shoved the package into his pocket. He exchanged it for a tiny Snickers bar and tore open. “So how’s parole?”

Frank bristled, “It’s _ probation_, dickhole, and I’ve got another four months.”

“Five and a half,” the shivering one spoke up. “Frankie, can we go? My dad’s going to kill you if I’m not back by ten.”

“Ach, you heard the missus.” Frank punched his fist to his palm and ugly tattoos on his fingers spelt _ troublemaker. _ He bent and feigned a hideous bow. “_Arigato_. Or what the fuck ever.”

“Poor customer service,” Jake unwrapped a grape lollipop and stuck it in his mouth, “Quen, tighten your leash.”

The boy shot him a deadpan look.

Dwight looked at Jake when they walked off with an incredulous look on his face. “Did you just buy weed from a couple of highschoolers?”

“Does it count if he’s a dropout?”

Dwight just stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “That was rude of me, wasn’t it?”

“Which part? Lying or making me an accomplice?”

“Both.”

“I’d say so,” Dwight tried not to smile, “Gonna make it up to me?”

“Suppose I can try. Let’s start with ice cream.”

Inside was quiet. The heater humming overhead drowned out the worst of the tinny pop music rattling from dusty speakers. Locating the frozen snacks, Dwight peered through the foggy glass. He scanned past brightly colored popsicles until he found what he was looking for.

“There’s the kind you like,” he pointed, “is that one next to it any good?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like cookie dough.” Jake’s hand found his. Dwight squinted as he tried to make out the tiny print and didn’t draw attention when Jake quietly interlocked their fingers. “Oh, it’s _ dark _ chocolate. That sounds pretty good.”

Unfortunately, it would give him one hell of a stomachache. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose and read all the labels carefully. “Sorry, just a second.”

“Look, those kinds don’t have any gluten. See the fudge ones?” Jake tapped the glass and Dwight felt something odd melt inside of him.

“You remembered?” he asked blankly.

Jake gave him a look. “Why are you so surprised when people listen to you?”

Dwight shrugged. With a concentrated effort, he managed to pry open the frozen sliding door. He snatched both pints and offered Jake his. Jake took it from his hand and kissed him.

Stunned, Dwight watched as Jake stuffed a hand in his pocket and turned around. He trudged into line, eyes down on his phone. A slow grin spread across Dwight’s face. He cradled his ice cream with his sleeves so he wouldn’t get cold and joined him.

As they waited for the couple in front of them to purchase cigarettes, Dwight tugged him in for a hug by slipping his arms around him. Jake stood in place a little awkwardly as Dwight pressed his forehead to his chest. It was warm like this, clad in his comfiest jacket this close to Jake, and he didn’t mind waiting the extra minute when the cash register hiccuped on the couple’s transaction. For just a moment, everything was still and silent and okay.

Soon it was their turn and Jake stepped forward. He placed the ice cream down and withdrew his wallet but paused. “Hey, Dwight?”

Dwight looked up from an assortment of neon lighters. “What?”

“Uh,” he looked at him sheepishly, “I don’t have any money.”

Jake came home late one night.

In retrospect, it didn’t surprise Dwight. It had been a while since his last disappearing act but it always hurt the same way in his chest when the clock ticked and ticked and still the front door didn’t open.

Dwight tried waiting for him but by midnight he’d cut his losses and turned in. His glasses and novel were still nearby, untidily scattered across the mattress. He was at the cusp of falling asleep when he heard the door slowly ease open and a moment later the bed dipped slightly.

Sometimes Jake did this. He never got into bed with Dwight at the same time he did - something about it, Dwight reckoned, was too familiar for his taste. Jake would rather crawl into his bed when he wasn’t up simply to wake up beside him.

“Dwight?” Jake’s soft voice broke the silence.

He didn’t want to open his eyes yet. “Mm?”

“You awake?”

Dwight sleepily reached out with one hand until he caught it. Jake’s fingers were cold and he rubbed it apologetically.

Jake kissed the center of his palm and Dwight cracked a small smile. Then he kissed his fingers, at the tips and then each knuckle. Dwight gradually opened his eyes, watching his blurry silhouette move in the darkness.

He gently turned his hand and kissed the inside of his wrist. Dwight’s breath caught in his throat. Jake brushed his lips upwards, lingering at freckles. He slid his hand up his arm as he kissed up his forearm and to his shoulder. His palm chilled Dwight’s skin but it wasn’t why he shivered.

Then Jake’s mouth reaches his throat and Dwight’s head went light. Holding his breath, he silently tipped his head upwards but found Jake had been waiting for the invitation. He leaned forward and peppered several kisses up the side of his neck, each more fervent than the last. By the time Jake’s lips reached his ear Dwight was twisting his fingers into his blanket.

He captured the shell of his ear between his teeth and an embarrassing noise fell from Dwight’s lips. He quickly sealed his mouth but Jake only did it again, harder this time. His entire body shuddered.

“What are you doing?” he asked shakily.

“I… I don’t know,” Jake hesitated, “Should I stop?”

“No,” he said quickly, “No.”

Jake touched his neck, barely grazing the skin. “Can I touch you here again?”

Dwight gave a shaky nod, “Yeah. That’s fine.”

He bowed his head into the crook of Dwight’s neck and his eyes flew open wide when his teeth scraped along his skin. He swallowed hard and angled his jaw a little higher.

“Still good?”

“Still good,” Dwight breathed, “You can keep going. If you want.”

Jake’s hands came down on his hips and guided him onto his stomach. It was a very slow and hesitant motion, like he wasn’t quite sure how to pull it off. Dwight moved as he wanted and folded his arms over the pillow.

Dwight’s eyes fluttered closed when Jake’s hand ran down his back. When he reached the small of his back he carefully slid his fingertips beneath his shirt, leaving icy trails in places he’d never touched Dwight before.

With a burst of courage, Jake pushed his shirt up to his shoulder blades and Dwight quickly buried his face in the pillow. He could feel his face burning despite the darkness as Jake mapped each inch of his exposed skin.

“Gorgeous,” Jake mumbled and Dwight’s eyes squeezed shut.

His fingertips glided across his skin, stroking long lines up and down his spine. It somehow both tickled and soothed and soon every inch he touched was warm and tingling. When he finished a downwards stroke, his hand stopped when it reached the hem of his sweatpants. Dwight realized where he paused and startled.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it- it’s fine.”

Color flushed to Dwight’s cheeks as Jake slid his hand beneath his pants. His skin was warm now with no reminder of the outside chill when he smoothed his hand down the curve of his backside. He squeezed gently until Dwight stifled an embarrassed whimper.

Jake kissed the back of his neck and Dwight accidentally rocked his hips back against his hand. He expected Jake to make a jest but instead he did it again, this time closing his teeth at the tender skin. Then the pads of Jake’s fingers dipped between his cleft and Dwight startled.

Jake immediately stopped, “I’m sorry.”

“No, keep-” he cleared his throat, his chest so tight it nearly hurt, “Keep going. Please.”

He didn’t immediately return and Dwight swore at himself for his reaction. He reached for him in apology.

“It’s not your fault,” he promised thickly, “I don’t mean to be so jumpy. I’m just- I’m not used to it, that’s all.”

He felt Jake kiss between his shoulders and he slowly relaxed. His fingers reappeared back at his sweatpants and this time he lifted his hips. Taking the hint, Jake carefully tugged them down to his thighs. Dwight could feel his hands shaking.

“Do you have, um.”

“Yeah,” his mouth went dry and he swallowed hard, “Yeah. Hang on.”

He blindly grabbed for the bottle pinned oddly between the mattress and the bed frame. It had slipped down there the other day and he kept forgetting about it and now he was cursing himself again and again, “Don’t make fun of me, just- here.”

Jake took it and uncapped it. There was a brief cold moment when he drizzled it onto his fingers.

“Make fun of you?” Jake repeated when he put it aside, “Why would I make fun of you?”

Dwight opened his mouth then closed it again. His stomach was in knots. “I- for that, for anything. I’m sorry, I’m not really good at this.”

“Why would that matter to me?” Jake touched his lip.

“I don’t know,” his voice wobbled, “sometimes it does.”

“Not to me,” Jake said simply, easily; like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dwight leaned closer and kissed him. Jake hadn’t expected it - his mouth was rigid and unassuming but he responded all the same, capturing his lips with his. Dwight broke off with a stutter when he pushed something inside of him. “Oh my god-”

“Too fast?” Jake asked and Dwight dropped his head as he tried to calm his racing heartbeat. This really was happening, wasn’t it? Jake was here in his bed, in _ him _, touching and caressing him like he was something important to him and-

“Dwight?”

“No,” he licked his lips anxiously, “I’m okay. It’s good, it doesn’t hurt or anything.”

His broad palm came down upon his side and Dwight tried not to jump, “Should I?”

He took a breath in and let it out, “Go slow?”

“Yeah. Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

Whatever happened next, his body didn’t like it. The first pain only got worse when Jake moved his hand again and he instinctively seized his arm.

“Wait,” he swallowed, “Just- just a second.”

“I should stop,” Jake said tensely.

“No, you’re doing really good,” Dwight confessed, “I’m just nervous I think, I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Here, this usually helps.”

He lowered himself behind Dwight and eased him into his arms. Moving onto his side, Dwight felt him tuck one hand around his chest as his other found its place again. Jake was right, Dwight realized with a startle as he pressed himself flush to his chest. The familiarity of the position worked like magic, his muscles gradually relaxing. He slid his hand up Jake’s arm and grabbed his forearm when he entered him again.

Dwight bit his lip. The pressure was still there but it was more of a muted ache than a piercing sting. Jake grabbed a pillow under his head and Dwight gladly nestled against it. He nervously bent his knee, lifting his leg higher. Making use of the granted room, Jake’s fingers explored gently.

This was much, much better. He didn’t have to think about the strange faces he must be making and Jake’s body was warm and solid behind him. Gradually the discomfort faded, the glide growing a little smoother and stronger. Dwight twisted his head into the crook of his elbow and let out a quiet sigh, “Oh…”

There was a faint chuckle, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, arching against it. He heard Jake mumble a swear under his breath.

Dwight closed his eyes, his lips parted in bliss. He clutched the sheet beneath him, his nails scraping against the fabric as he tried to keep quiet. The thick silence of the room made everything sound a hundred times louder and he never liked the sound of his voice. If he controlled his breathing, he was able to keep the tiny whimpers from squeezing out of his throat.

From the quiet, Dwight’s stomach growled obnoxiously. He squeaked and clamped his hands over his middle as if trying to muffle the sound.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” he said, mortified, “I, um. I didn’t have dinner.”

Jake paused. “Why not?”

“I don’t- I just wasn’t hungry. Work’s got me kind of stressed right now.” He immediately cursed himself for bringing up something as stupid as work at a time like this. He winced and suppressed the urge to cover his face with his hands.

“How come?”

“They keep-” Jake shifted deeper and Dwight’s lashes fluttered, “t-taking me off assignments. My own projects. It’s getting really frustrating but I, I can’t do anything-” he threw his head back and his leg coiled, “Jake, fuck, I can’t think.”

“Then don’t,” Jake bit his throat and Dwight had to swallow a groan.

Jake’s fingers moved with more precision and controlling his noises was getting harder by the second. The uncomfortable stretch was gone, replaced by a grounding full sensation that had his eyes rolling back into his head.

He stuck one hand awkwardly between his legs and grabbed himself tightly, knuckles white. It only took a couple quick strokes before a shattered gasp tore from his throat.

“That’s it.”

The words were enough to make his face burn scarlet. All he could focus on was Jake’s hands all over his body, touching and exploring and learning how to play his body like an instrument. He knew that he should be touching Jake too, that he was being selfish, but it was all he could do not to lose his mind as Jake curiously took him apart. Dwight clutched a bundle of the blanket to his chest and muffled a broken moan into its fabric and he swore he felt Jake rock his hips.

“Jake, baby-” he choked out when the pads of his fingers rubbed slowly, “_pl__ease_.”

Jake ran his hands through Dwight’s hair and guided his head back. His fingers danced down his bare throat. “I like the way you say my name.”

Dwight twisted and met him for a messy kiss. This time, Jake kept up and slipped his tongue between his teeth with fervor. Kissing was painfully unknown territory to Jake and he stumbled his way through it but the imperfections were what made it real. Jake pushed his legs further apart and Dwight let him. Something changed, something grew, and soon Dwight was breathing hard and trying to hold onto anything he could.

“Still good?” Jake’s voice was rough and it made Dwight’s head spin to realize he’d done that to him.

Unable to speak, he nodded brokenly over and over until he was dizzy. Jake drew him closer and Dwight jerked when his peak hit him all at once. He clenched his teeth and bit off an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper, curling a messy hand around his shirt. Everything was so loud and still at once. Panting hard into the heel of his palm, it took a few seconds before he could function again.

“Holy shit,” he gasped out hoarsely into the darkness, his shoulders heaving as he regained his breath. “Holy _ shit."_

Jake chuckled and pressed his forehead against the back of his neck. Blindly Dwight reached to scratch his fingers through his hair and he asked, “Where did that come from?"

“I don’t know,” Jake admitted, “I just really wanted to.”

“Trust me,” Dwight shut his eyes for a moment, “I’m not complaining.”

He was closer to falling asleep than ever. The way Jake was holding him didn’t help that fact; he had no idea he’d be this warm, so solid and comforting. When Jake tugged the blanket up to his shoulders he almost forgot how to breathe.

“Feel like getting breakfast tomorrow?”

Dwight turned over to face him. He touched his cheek then his hair, carefully moving a few errant locks from his forehead.

“I’d really like that,” he admitted, “but I have to work.”

“Oh,” Jake said and something shifted, “Right.”

“But let’s get dinner,” he insisted, “Okay? Let’s have a real date for once. Not just fast food at midnight, but at an actual restaurant. I can make reservations in the afternoon.”

He paused. “That’d make you happy?”

Dwight nodded sleepily. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Alright then,” he agreed, “We’ll do it.”

Dwight slid a leg over his and kissed his lips then beneath his ear. He slid a hand between his legs, fingers reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants. But Jake took his hand, guiding it away. “It’s okay.”

Dwight hesitated and asked, “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. Besides, you need to get some sleep.”

He never understood this part of Jake and something told him he never would. Guilt ached in his chest and he wondered how sincere the excuse was. He had to admit he had no idea what time it was - for all he knew, he only had a couple hours of sleep left to catch.

Dwight put his head back down slowly. He wouldn’t try again tonight. “You’ll be here in the morning, right?”

“Yeah,” he laid a hand on his hair, “promise.”

Dwight was seven minutes late to work but the office was in such an uproar it hardly mattered. He put his laptop bag on his desk but barely had a moment to sit down when Meg was popping her head into his cubicle. She was as overeager as usual and at eight in the morning, it was painfully unwelcome.

“Hey, geek!” she sang out, “Ready for the biggest fucking day of your life? Tell me you got my email.”

He frowned. “When did you send it?”

“Like an hour ago.”

“No, I’ve been stuck in traffic. What the hell’s going on around here?”

Meg clapped her hands, “Corp visit! And no one’s got time so you’re in charge, cool?”

Dwight felt his heart stop. “When?”

“When what?”

“When’s the visit?” he demanded.

“Oh,” she waved a hand, “they’re already waiting for you. Better hope they believe your traffic story. Just remember: positivity only! Mention last month’s fiasco and I’ll stick you in the call center for a month!” she punched the air enthusiastically, “Capiche?”

Dwight was too busy scrambling for his computer. He swore over and over and Meg watched from the doorway. “Wow, you look super freaked out.”

“You think?” he snapped, “Can’t you go make yourself useful?”

She brightened. “I’m also here to tell you that they need at least one person to stay late tonight and _ I _ have written off plans so I’ll be sure to get you a coffee on my way out.”

“What? I can’t stay tonight, I have-” he hesitated on the word, “I have a date.”

“And I’m catching a red-eye to meet your bitch of a supervisor in San Fran,” she rolled her eyes, “We’re all busy, princess, at least you’re getting laid. Ta-ta, don’t let me down.”

She spun on a tall heel and vanished, leaving Dwight standing in stunned silence alone.

The day was brutal. Dwight spent the whole day on his feet and didn’t get a moment to himself until nearly three in the afternoon and only then he could cram in a phone call to Jake.

_ “You’re so quiet, I can barely hear you."_

“I said I can’t make it tonight.”

Saying it louder somehow made it hurt more. Dwight cradled his phone closer to his ear and cupped the mouthpiece. Around him, managers and interns alike were racing about in a chaotic flurry. Phones were ringing endlessly, printers and fax machines whining and chirring - there was noise everywhere. The harder he focused on it, the harder it was to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m really sorry.”

_ “It’s… for work?” _

“It’s my stupid boss,” his voice broke, “she accidentally scheduled a visit on top of inventory _ and _ quarterlies and now everyone is freaking out and running around and they put _ me _in charge of the visit and I don’t even know what I’m doing, everything’s so loud-”

_"Dwight," _Jake interrupted him, _ “Take a second and catch your breath. Are you okay?”_

Dwight rubbed his eyes. “No. God. I should have just texted you.”

_ “I’m not doing anything important.” _

Dwight stole a look outside his office and found it empty. His voice watery, he asked, “What are you doing?”

_"Um, I’m actually trying to fix the vacuum cleaner.” _

Dwight let out a broken laugh, catching a few tears with his palm. “That’s pretty brave of you.”

_"I’ll say. This thing’s being a bitch.”_

Dwight closed his eyes. “Keep talking?”

_ “I thought it was just jammed so I took it apart in a few places to check but that wasn’t the problem, so I took it apart a little more and, uh. It turns out I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.” _

“Did you accidentally sabotage our vacuum cleaner?”

_ “It’s not my fault all the pieces look the same. Let’s just say the living room is now a plastic minefield so watch your feet when you get home.” _

“Noted,” he chuckled. Someone knocked on his door and he jumped. He nodded and waved them off hurriedly, “Damn it, I have to go.”

_ “Okay. When will you-?” _

“I’m sorry,” he quickly hung up and immediately guilt tore at his heart but the three people directly responsible for his paycheck were standing right outside his door. He put on a forced smile and tried not to think about Jake on the other end of the dead phone line.

Every since the visit, Dwight realized that his job was at stake. In the midst of an anxiety attack he counted his monthly expenses and compared it to his modest savings and discovered that he would need a new job before Christmas if they cut him loose within the month. He tried thinking of what else to slice from his budget only to realize there was nothing left to cut. His student loans were drying him up and without the steady paycheck, the first thing to give would be rent.

The house wasn’t cheap. Dwight had splurged when he decided on this one instead of the two-bedroom on Sol but he’d been younger and stupider. He hadn’t expected life to throw curveballs in the form of fender benders and shitty credit reports. Sometimes he even found himself scrolling apartment listings in the dead of night when Jake was away.

Dwight woke up one morning in a bad mood with a headache that he couldn’t shake off. He dragged himself through the kitchen and Jake watched as he sipped black coffee from the countertop.

“Shit never ends,” Dwight moaned and pressed his face against the refrigerator, “I wake up where I fell asleep. I have the same responsibilities I had six hours ago. The only thing that’s changed is that it’s brighter outside but I don’t go out there either. Even the five year old neighbor can see that.”

“It’s not so bad,” Jake drank from his venomous abyss, “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“Not that it matters, it’ll be another ten hours before I get to enjoy any of it. Is that the same pot of coffee I made two days ago?”

“Know what?” Jake ignored him and gulped down the last of it, “You need a break. Take the day off, let’s go on a road trip.”

Dwight startled, “Leaving when my boss is still out of town? She’d kill me.”

“You just said she’s gone,” Jake squinted into his mug, “How would she know?”

“Oh my god- wait, no. What if she’s testing my work ethic?”

“It’s not a test!” Jake exclaimed and dropped the cup into the sink with an obnoxious clatter, “This isn't the Bible, it’s bullshit. Come on, you haven’t taken a day off since you got that shitty job. Grab something to eat and get in the car, I want to show you something.”

Twenty minutes later Dwight found himself getting into Jake’s car, simultaneously clutching a jellied toast and scrambling to put a hoodie on. He stuck his breakfast in his mouth and buckled his seatbelt - a necessity when Jake was behind the wheel.

“Where are we even going?” Dwight took a bite with a furrowed frown. This entire situation didn’t feel right. He should be in his own car, driving an hour down Southern to work, crossing his fingers and hoping that someone, _ someone _ brought donuts today. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Sure,” Jake said, “it’s pretty far.”

That didn’t narrow it down one bit but Dwight took what he was given. He munched his toast, deciding Jake’s car was too trashed to care much about the crumbs. Jake put an arm out the window and the howling wind rustled their hair as he turned right onto the freeway.

“Why are we going east?” Dwight asked blankly, “There’s nothing but churches and trailer parks out there.”

Jake looked amused, “Like I said. Trust me.”

Dwight stuck his hands in the warm pockets of his jacket and watched out the window as the buildings grew shorter and older. He leaned his head against the door and when Jake merged into the left most lane, he knew it would indeed be a long drive.

Dwight didn’t mean to fall asleep but when he opened his eyes again, grunge rock was oozing from custom speakers and he didn’t know where he was. He sighed and stretched, ignoring Jake’s snickering _ ‘your hair’s a mess’ _ and taking a look around. The view didn’t surprise him - tall trees lined the cracked road and everything looked damp and sticky. Regardless, it was a nice change from the grey smog of the city. The car hit a jarring bump and Dwight realized what must have woken him.

“Hungry?”

“Almost,” he felt his stomach stir at the idea of food, “Will you tell me where we are yet? There’s nothing for miles.”

“That’s right,” Jake started fishing for something from the center console, “the only way to find this place is to know where it is.”

“That sounds like a pretentious excuse for being lost,” he touched his brow.

“Headache?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “always happens on road trips.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” he said and finally found what he was looking for with a triumphant, “I’ve got just the thing. Here, hold this for me.”

Dwight outstretched his hand, “Could we stop at a gas station or something? I think the change in pressure is screwing with me.”

“Bit late for that unless you want me to turn around. Tell me if that’s got fluid in it.”

Dwight shook the lighter. “Why did you give me this?”

“So you can light this for me.”

“Jesus,” Dwight sighed and examined the crudely-rolled joint, “this wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

“Trust me,” he said too cheerily, “it’ll do you better than anything you’ll find at a gas station.”

“This is a bad idea,” he said. He held it over the flame for a moment and took a steady drag. He held it as low in his lungs before letting it seep from his teeth. It had a strange thick taste he couldn’t quite describe but compared to what he was used to, it was a godsend.

Jake eyed him, almost impressed. “I expected you to be worse at that.”

“Someone didn’t go to college,” he stuck it back between his lips.  
  
“Greedy,” Jake said pleasantly and grabbed it when Dwight coughed out his second hit, “That’s what I thought. Watch the master.”

“You’re _ driving- _”

Not only did Jake manage to take a pass without so much as clearing his throat, he expelled the smoke in a near-perfect ring into the air. Dwight made a face, “Oh, come on. That’s just ridiculous.”

“Give it back, I can do better.”

Dwight briefly considered it, “You can have it back but you need to keep your hands on the wheel.”

“Alright. Give it here then.”

With a grin, Dwight moved the joint closer and Jake leaned forward to capture it with his lips. Dwight forgot to back away again. He wanted to touch Jake’s hair.

Jake tried to take it out of his mouth but Dwight exclaimed, “Keep your hands there!” and removed it for him. Too busy shooting him a look, he almost forgot his mission. Catching a glimpse at the road, he aimed the next ring at Dwight’s nose. Perfectly circular, it floated straight through the air until Dwight went cross-eyed watching it. 

“Told you.”

“I didn’t see it, you’ll just have to do it again.”

Jake stared at him and Dwight stared back until he put a hand on his face and pushed it away. Laughing, Dwight fell back into his own seat, “Careful, you’re going to put it out! You just made this, it’s still a baby.”

“_You’re _ still-”

“Wait, shut up, I love this song.” Dwight turned up the stereo, “How do you know this one? You don’t know good music.”

“Firstly, ow.” Jake fetched his phone, “secondly, I made this playlist for you because I know you hate my stuff.”

“That’s not true. How do you know that? Oh my god,” he read the list of music, “you really _ made _a playlist?”

“You know, I’m not totally useless-”

“No, like,” Dwight scrolled down the screen, unable to take his eyes off the rows and rows of familiar songs, “you knew I liked this?”

“Well yeah, it’s pretty much all you listen to.”

“That’s really,” he didn’t know how to say it.

“It’s not anything. Isn’t this the one you sing in the shower all the time?”

Dwight blinked, “Not when you’re home.”

“Always when I’m home,” Jake corrected him.

“I can’t help it, I know all the lyrics! And listen to that rift, you can’t tell me that doesn’t get you hard.”

Jake reached to take another hit and said, “Prove it.”

Dwight blushed, “Prove what?”

“That you know all the lyrics.”

“I- what do you want me to do, write it down for you?”

“Sing it for me,” he said like it was obvious, “like you’re in the shower.”

“No way,” he exclaimed, “I’m not going to sing in front of you!”

“You’ve done it dozens of times, come on.” Jake pressed him, “Listen, this fast bit right here- I know you know it.”

“_Duh _ I know it, I’ve listened to this song since highschool,” but Dwight silently mouthed the words to the breakneck chorus that could send shivers down his back. This song didn’t sting so badly with Jake sitting beside him and the coming of age miseries a distant memory.

Dwight looked at him again and wondered if they would have even met during those messed up times. He was too busy avoiding eye contact and attending chess meets to make friends and Jake wasn’t the sort of person to have those without them being thrust upon him. He wondered how he and Feng must have met.

“It’s kind of weird, right?”

“What is?”

“We never would have had anything to do with each other if we hadn’t signed the same piece of paper.”

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”

He blinked. “What are you thinking about?”

“Mm,” he leaned his hand against his cheek, “nothing.”

“How can you think about _ nothing? _”

“It’s called relaxing, you might want to try it sometime.”

Dwight shrugged, “I’ve never been much good at that.”

“I’ve noticed, it’s kind of worrying. Here,” Jake passed him the joint again, “you gotta relight it but the rest is yours.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve got another.”

“Of course you do,” Dwight’s grin came easy as he rummaged for the missing lighter. He lowered the window so the smoke wouldn’t fill the space and he stuck his hand outside to feel the frigid air bite his skin. He closes his eyes and sings to the song.

The sun sinks low in the sky. Dwight is counting red cars and Jake counts green. They determine the ideal way to watch fireworks and discuss the pros and cons of grilled peanut butter sandwiches. They pass a tiny town without roads and get food at a place Dwight couldn’t figure out if he was on his own. Jake speaks in Korean to the girl behind the counter and puts his hand in Dwight’s back pocket as he explains each dish. It’s all Dwight can do not to melt like butter and request nothing spicy.

They eat in the car until Jake spills green peppers in his lap and they laugh until their sides ache. Dwight licks sweet sauce off his fingers as Jake tells him a story but he was too busy watching the way his mouth moved to pay any attention. Jake finishes what he’s saying and looks at him, “Know what I mean?”

He smiles. He has no idea. “Yeah.”

Time begins to ebb and sway. Dwight doesn’t remember when they stopped for gas but there was a plastic bag full of candy between the both of them and he’s reaching for another Kit-Kat. Wrappers litter the messy floor.

The music is different now but he doesn’t know when it changed or who did it but it doesn’t matter because Jake pulls over and kisses him hard. His hands find Dwight’s hair and it’s easy to slide onto his lap and nip his lip til he parts them. This time Jake’s hands ignore the denim and he touches and he grabs and he bites. Dwight closes his eyes dizzily and rolls his hips.

Dwight wasn’t sure if he nodded off again but his head was clearer by the time Jake had to turn the headlights on. The air outside was freezing but Dwight liked shivering under Jake’s jacket he couldn’t recall putting on.

“Are we lost?” Dwight couldn’t recognize a thing and it was too dark to make out anything other than the starry sky. Off in the distance there was a tiny trail of lights which, as they grew closer, seemed to light a path further into the tall pines. Jake took the turn.

“People live out here?” he asked in amazement as he squinted, making out a blurry house standing alone in the distance. “No way. Isn’t there any reception?”

“Of course not. That’s the best part.”

Then Dwight realized it wasn’t a house but a cabin. It was a pretty place right in the middle of nowhere; all beautiful rustic oak and tall windows. To the right was a rock path that led to a garden beside what could have been a toolshed. To the left was a great pile of chopped wood beside a dirt bike that looked older than he was.

“Are we allowed to be here? This is- I mean, someone lives here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake got out of the car and motioned, “come on.”

Dumbfounded, all Dwight could do was follow. There was a strange serine silence here - he could hear each wet leaf beneath his sneakers. He stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his borrowed jacket as his teeth began to chatter. He shot Jake an incredulous look as he pulled out a keyring from his pocket.

“What _ is _this place?” he blurted out finally, unable to resist as they climbed the creaky steps up the porch. By the light from Jake’s phone Dwight spotted crickets leaping out of the way as he stuck his key into the lock and twisted.

“Well, it’s kind of a weird story,” Jake rubbed the back of his neck before he pushed the door open, “but this, uh… this is home.”


End file.
